Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (62 page)

“Pass. Dale Hannah ain’t my daddy. Who the fuck has a seven-second car?”

I tossed the suit over my arm and gestured to the red leather encasing Marley’s thighs. “Wait’ll Colt buys me a pair of those boots. You ain’t seen arrogance yet.”

Caroline crossed her boots on the shabby, magazine-strewn coffee table. “I forgot to warn you. Shelby’s independent as hell, right up until she jacks your best fashion choices.”

I slung my feet on the table, touching the toe of my new red boots to the side of her aged, scuffed ones, then winked at Marley. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“Didn’t you hear the helicopter? I flew over with George.” Marley brushed a speck of imaginary dust off her shoulder. “And those two guys Rick had in his box tonight.”

A ride in the president of NASCAR’s personal helicopter? Phillip was definitely my bitch now.

“Can’t hear much but the music and the Porsche. That engine makes some noise.” Caroline giggled and slapped the back of her hand across my arm. “She’s been signin’ autographs and kissin’ babies. Next week, I expect her to run for county council.”

“Speaking of England, listen to this.” I filled them in on Francine’s reaction to the contract and stock certificates. I held back the bad news about Audi, however. I couldn’t afford to dwell on that.

“And, Dale’s awake.” Marley threw her head back and laughed. “He gave Caine fits all through the race. Caine finally handed his phone off to me.” She sobered. “They gotta hang out and do some interviews, but I heard Jamie tell one reporter they might have to finish up over here in the parking lot. The helo went back to pick up Jamie, Jonny, Colt, and Caine. They’ll be here, Shelby. The whole crew’s on the way.”

Jamie won the Charlotte 600—and he’s coming to watch me race?
Heat raced over my skin, leaving me sweating despite the tiny wall unit churning out ozone-tinged air.

Marley glanced at her watch. “Time to suit up.”

Just thinking about putting on the heavy suit made me thirsty. Shoving off the couch, I crossed to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. To my delight, bottled water lined the top shelf of the fridge. I seized one.

“Hey, there’s blood on your jeans,” Marley said.

“It’s not my blood.”  I glanced over my shoulder while I wrenched off the bottle top. Dammit why couldn’t I have those big-ass eyes? The jeans I’d worn the day me and Mom fought were the only pair I could still zip and button. Despite laundering them multiple times, the stains were set.

Marley went white underneath her tan.

Caroline yanked her feet off the table. Magazines cascaded to the floor. “Oh, God. Shelby. You’ve miscarried.”

With her words, a hard cramp drew me double. The bottle of water slipped from my hand. I panted through the pain.

“Marley! Go get the rescue squad guy. Hurry!” Caroline barked.

“No!” When I could straighten, I took a deep breath. We didn’t have Audi. We had to have the ‘Cuda. So we could sell it for the money to start Hannah-Built.

“I’m getting in that goddamn car, no matter what.” I blinked away the memory of the blue emergency room curtain. My collar bone ached for the first time in weeks. “I can race and be done before any doctor would look at me, even if I left right now.”

Marley held my gaze, then whipped the small pouch on her hip open. “Prescription-strength pain reliever, comin’ right up. You got any allergies? This is stuff you can take and drive.” She pulled out an amber bottle. 

Irrational as it was, in that moment, I fell for Marley, because she reacted like a driver and treated me like one, too. 

“Losing,” I gasped, as the next wave of cramps gripped me. “I’m allergic to losing. Got a pad?” Marley hurled the pills across the table. 

“I do.” Caroline snagged the prescription bottle in mid-air, then burrowed in her purse. I staggered to the bathroom and peeled my jeans off. The entire crotch was saturated.

I wiped, gaping at the bright blood that coated the tissue, as well as my hand. I’d never seen blood so red.
Carmine? Crimson?

Am I dying?
As I stared at the tissue with a racing heart, something slid out of me and plopped into the water. I peered between my thighs. Black knots sank to the bottom of the bowl, unfurling cranberry-colored swirls in their wake.

Pain nearly cut me in half—or fear. For the first time since Kingsley Deese had punched me in the nose back in second grade, because I wouldn’t let him look under my dress, I wanted my mother.

And I didn’t trust her to honor my wishes.

“I’ll get paper towels.” Caroline sprang off the sofa and rushed to the kitchen counter, seizing the entire roll.

While she dampened several sheets in the sink, I leaned my head against the wall, gripped by panic. A sharp jab of pain painted my upper lip and the back of my neck with sweat. I focused on Marley, who’d taken a seat on the end of the coffee table. “Please, when he gets here, don’t tell Caine.”

Marley dragged her tongue across her lower lip. “When he tries to punch me after he finds out that I knew and didn’t tell him, Caroline, you save me, okay? I don’t think I can count on Colt.”

Wide-eyed, but silent, Caroline handed me the dripping towels. Marley dropped her eyes while I wiped my stained fingers, turning the rag several times to find a clean spot. Caroline readied another bunch of towels. The situation between my thighs was past any help from toilet paper.

“Can you stand?” Marley’s dark eye makeup emphasized her pallor. Tough chick couldn’t stand the sight of blood?

“Yes,” I gasped, unable to think for the way my heart slammed against my ribs. “Caroline, grab me something to wash those pills down with.”

“We’re gonna have to get Lee to change the schedule.” Marley collapsed onto the end of the coffee table and shoved her hands underneath her hips. “If we can push back your dial-in runs to the half hour immediately before the race, those pills will have time to start working.”

“Kolby pitched a hissy fit to go first, so we swapped. How can he show his ass if I want to change the schedule?” Another thought killed the hope her remark had spawned. “No. I have to get in the car. Caine’s gonna be out there any minute now, Marley. He’ll go nuts, wondering why anything got delayed.”

“Fuck me. Men are a pain in the ass.” Checking the large chronograph on her wrist, Marley announced, “Eighteen minutes. I hope that shit has time to kick in. It’s real good, once it gets goin’.”

Caroline scanned the label with troubled eyes. “I don’t feel good about this. You need to see a doctor right away.”

“After Jackie got me pregnant, Jesse took me for an abortion. I was due to race the next day, so he found a place that’d do the procedure without anesthesia. That’s where I got the first prescription of that stuff. It’s non-narcotic. Think... Midol, on steroids.”

Marley’s chest expanded and fell. Marley’s chalky face matched her colorless tone. Horror curled at the edges of my mind. It was inconceivable that Caroline had been the Hancock daughter with the better life.

“I hate him for that.” She met my horrified gaze. “See, my racin’s all about him.” She drove her fist down on the table. “But, as God is my witness, I’m gonna find a way to make my winnin’ about me.”

Marley’s eyes burned with the same betrayal I’d seen in the convenience store bathroom. “I’d rather have had my mama with me, but she stayed home. Gettin’ drunk and cryin’ about what the neighbors would think if they found out she’d raised such a little slut. I memorized the sheet that doc gave me, symptoms to worry about, on the plane ride to the racetrack. Can’t trust a man with that kind of thing. Spike in fever above a hundred, hemorrhaging, swelling of the abdomen, vomiting.”

I pleaded with Caroline. “Now that the panic’s past, this is just a period on steroids. I think passing clots is part of the gig.”

Marley shoved off the table. “Yeah, it is. My second cousin on the Taggert side called me this afternoon. He’s workin’ the rescue squad bus tonight. They’ll have thicker pads on the ambulance. I’ll get some, and have him call the hospital so there’ll be a gynecologist standing by. We’ll shove her in the ambulance right after the race. I’ll be sure a couple reporters hear me say you have the stomach flu. Then, I’ll deny it when they ask me point blank. They’ll believe rumors faster’n any truth.”

“Her health’s more important than any race!” Tears gleamed in Caroline’s eyes. “This is nuts!”

Marley finally looked back when she reached the door. “Caroline, she can race, or she can lay on a gurney while that doc finishes screwing his wife and shows up at the hospital. Time works out about the same until she gets treatment. It’s her choice.”

Caroline whirled to face me. “Please, don’t do this. He ain’t never paid off on a bet. It’s just a damn car you can’t never drive.”

“It’s not about the car.” I tossed the stained towels in the trash can and held out my hand. “Give me the pills. Marley, get those heavy-duty pads. If I bail now, even if we told the gospel truth, those reporters out there would be sympathetic for a week. Maybe. Or, they’d think that Dale cheated the first time, and I backed out tonight because we couldn’t figure out a way to cheat this time without his help.”

Sweat stung my armpits and trickled down my sternum. “And throughout my tenure as Chief Operations Officer, they’d go around me to ask their questions of Dale instead. Nothing I ever say would penetrate. If I give in to something that happens every month, your genius will go unappreciated at the very moment all eyes are on us. And Marley will go on to win her first Cup series under the Ridenhour flag.”

While one life slid out of me, I envisioned a new life for the three of us. Racing had brought us together, but something more powerful bound us. The nebulous idea floating in the back of my mind all week came into sharp focus—along with Ernie’s voice.

But only you got the car and two million fans who already listen to what you got to say.

With the attention accorded any NASCAR team, we could do something to stop the bleeding. Not just ours. I’d keep the ‘Cuda. Mortgage the fuck out of it, use the money for Hannah-Built. But I’d use the iconic car for something more. I’d fucking sell day trips in the goddamn thing if it meant we could start a program to save young girls from suffering the way Caroline and Marley had suffered.

I tried to explain the visions dancing in my head.

“Meanwhile, the mean girls will keep throwing stones. Not just at us, but at little Shelby, and every other girl who’s different. Racin’ saved us all three. If we put our heads together, we can use Hannah-Built to save others like us. We’ll find a way to make people think twice before they throw that next stone. Doesn’t every damn NASCAR team sponsor a charity?”

I grabbed Caroline’s icy hand. “I don’t how right this minute, but I know I don’t wanna be talking to myself when we figure it out. It’s an hour, Caroline. I can do any damn thing for an hour.”

Marley opened the door and stepped outside, slamming it behind her. “Don’t let anyone else in there. She’s throwing her guts up. Of all the damn times to get the fuckin’ flu.”

Caroline swiped the back of her hand across one eye, then wrenched the top off the prescription bottle. Turning away, she scooped the bottle I’d dropped off the floor. I continued my cleanup while she poured most of the water down the sink, then dumped the contents of two capsules into the remaining inch of water.

When I wrapped my hand around the bottle, she brought hers down on top. “I love you, so much. I’m so sorry about how I acted when we realized you might be pregnant.”

T
he tunnel didn’t offer a breath of air. Sweat collected between my shoulder blades. The Nomex suit stuck to my arm pits. But none of those discomforts held a candle to the bulk between my thighs. The sanitary pad was the size of a damn pillow. I was positive every fan in the stadium could see that bulge through the racing leathers.

Except for a buzzing in my ears and the nasty taste coating my tongue, I felt no ill effects from the medicine.

Nor any good effects.

The minute I stepped out of the tunnel, the crowd jumped to their feet. Shrill whistles and thunderous applause drowned out the blaring music.

The bright red rescue squad vehicle halted me in my tracks. My stomach cramped. For a long second, I thought about climbing into the back.

Marley slapped a hand to my shoulder. “You okay?”

One day, someone was going to ask me that question and get more than they bargained for in response. I drew my spine straight and moved my eyes to the Audi.

“Fine.”
One foot in front of the other.

“And here she is, folks. Sheeeelllbyy Hannaaaah!”

The feedback nearly split my eardrums. I lifted my hand, but picked up my pace, eager to reach the damn car so I could sit down. Kolby perched near the Porsche, leaning against the concrete barrier. He crossed his arms and pinned his fingers under his pits, staring holes through me as I moved past.

Niles stalked the space between the cars, glaring at his watch. A handful of news vans lined the barriers along the infield. Reporters were lined up in front of the vans like crows on a wire. I stared at the ground so their camera flashes didn’t blind me.